Differences
by Harte-Lore
Summary: Things turned out the way they did because certain events in Sam Witwickey's past had taken place. If one thing were changed... would one difference change the entire outcome of the Battle for the Allspark? Or would everything stay the same?
1. Chapter 1

To believe that this whole... situation, this... entirely unplotted deviation from the expected path of his life... started out with a doll.

It was a very beautiful doll, with clear porcelain skin, coloured an unusual grey, long, perfectly straight silver hair, and unnerving eyes the colour of blood...

And, oddly out of place on the delicate thing, a set of antique glasses perched on the end of it's nose.

Maybe... maybe it would be better said that it was the glasses that started it all... For the glasses were the item that led them to him... led the Cybertronians to him.

* * *

The doll...

The only thing he had left...

They hated him for it, for carrying it around, said he was a faggot, a pouf. They hit him, screamed at him, glared and whispered nasty rumours behind his back, but he'd never get rid of it because it was the last thing he had left.

His parents had died several years ago, burned to death, burned away just like the house they'd lived in, like everything they'd ever owned.

The doll was literally the last connection he had to his parents. Even his memories were fading, not being able to remember eye colour, hair colour, a smile, a laugh...

It was also the last item that was truly his...

"Samuel? Sam?"

He looked up at his only friend, smiling tiredly.

"Miles. Thought... you had... tutoring?"

His voice was hoarse, rough, damaged by smoke. Something that would be a constant reminder, another thing that refused to heal.

"Got done early, well, more like the teach said something like 'Out! If I have to deal with you for even three more seconds, I swear I'll-' and then I ran out the door."

The too skinny teenager laughed softly, shaking his head st his friends antics.

"Only... you, Miles. Who was it this... time?"

The taller teen looked at him sheepishly.

"Mrs Grady."

"Once again... Only you would be able to piss off... the most patient teacher in the entire school."

"Yep."

Miles plopped a brown paper bag on the table the two were sitting at, rummaging around before pulling out a small sandwich and an apple.

"There ya go," he said, handing them over to Sam, "And you better eat them this time. You are way too skinny."

He accepted them with a sigh, well aware that he wouldn't win this battle.

"Al...right. Just to make you... quiet."

"Good."

They at in companionable silence, just enjoying each other's company for a short, uninterrupted moment.

A moment that ended all too quickly for Sam's taste...

"Oi, freak!"

Trent DeMarco, King of the tiny little high school located in Tranquility, California, swaggered his way over to the near empty table that housed the two other boys.

"Still gotcha little dollie, fag?"

Sam stiffened, arms wrapped tight around the doll in question, head down.

Silent.

Always silent.

He never answered back if he could help it.

...After all, people quickly grow bored with an unresponsive victim...

"Well? Not gonna answer me, loser?"

The taller, heavily muscled teen wrapped a hand around Sam's thin wrist and tossed him onto the ground.

"Oi! Back off, DeMarco!"

DeMarco turned towards Miles, angry glare twisting his features.

"You stay out of this, Lancaster. This has nothin' to do with you, so BUZZ OFF!"

He shoved Miles backwards into a table and turned back towards Sam, grinning nastily.

"Yanno, I hate seein' you walk around here with that ugly doll of yours, loser. I might just have to... get rid of it."

In a flash, Sam was up off the ground, shoulders curled in protectively.

"You... leave it alone. Don't... don't you dare tou...ch it or-"

"Or you'll what? What could a scrawny, anorexic loser do to me?"

DeMarco reached, intent on grasping the doll and twisting its head from its body.

Within three seconds, he was on the floor gasping for air.

"I will kill you," Sam hissed, eyes narrowed in a blood- freezing glare, arm still outstretched from the judo move he'd used to slam the other to the ground.

His body was angled to the side, away from DeMarco in an attempt to protect the doll.

Also, unknowingly, giving a silver Pontiac Solstice a very good look at the antique, out of place glasses perched on the end of the precious item's nose.

:Uhh, Prime? I think I foun' what we're lookin' for...:

* * *

I started writing this after I realized that I'd be stuck in a condo, in palm springs, where the temp outside was an average of 117 degrees, for a week _with no Internet_. I also wrote a hell of a lot of other stuff, drew a bunch of pictures, and played Minesweeper about fifty gazillion times, and wrote. A lot.

Yep.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you, the two people who've reviewed! I appreciate it!

BTW, Transformers isn't mine. If it was, well... there'd be a whole lot more slashy sticky stuff and many toddlers would be traumatised. Yep.

* * *

"Oh man, you, like, totally showed him! It was, like, grr, then wrowr, then flip-BANG! hiss, and he was like-"

Sam grinned at his overactive friend, amused by his description of the, apparently, epic confrontation.

"I won't... let him touch it. Ever. He... also shouldn't have hurt you."

Miles blushed.

"C'mon, man, he didn't really hurt me-"

"Miles."

The other boy went quiet.

"I'm not... going to let him hurt you. What... kind of friend would I be, hmm?"

"A smart friend, that's what. You do know he's just gonna be, like, gunning for you now, right? You totally pissed him off, dude. Totally."

"And it was worth it."

"He wouldn't bother you so much if ya just left the doll at home-"

"I can't! You... you know what would happen to it if... I didn't take it with me! And besides..."

He looked down at the object in question, gaze softening slightly.

"I just... can't."

Miles patted a shoulder lightly, an understanding look in his eyes.

"I get that, man, but maybe if we got you a backpack or something for it?"

Sam grinned.

"Miles, my friend... the most fun part is pissing people off!"

The other slapped his forehead with a palm, muttering under his breath about crazy people and not knowing when to quit.

"But Miles... I do know when to quit! I just... don't quit."

"Whatever, dude. We better get to class, one more tardy and I 'm grounded for, like, ever."

* * *

:Jazz, are you positive? We cannot make any mistakes.:

:Boss-Bot? The glasses have _co-ordinates_ on them. I think this is what we're lookin' for..:

:Alright, Jazz. Try to get a little closer to the boy. We need to make sure this is what we're looking for.:

:Got it, Boss-Bot, Jazz out.:

* * *

Every bored student's dream, the end-of-day bell. Ah, what joys it brings...

"Wanna come over?"

"Can't. Evil witch of the West... on patrol."

Miles winced, well aware of the evil witch he was talking about.

"Sorry, man, good luck. I'll bring you lunch tomorrow."

"Thanks... Miles. See you then... hopefully in... one piece..."

They parted ways, Miles headed east, towards his house, and Sam headed west, to what he considered, if not hell, than something pretty damn close.

Ella West's Home for Children.

Unfortunately, after the death of Sam's parents, his mother's line died out and his father's sister just wanted nothing to do with a damaged teenage boy, so Sam was sent here.

To an understocked, overcrowded group home with an evil, witchy caretaker.

Sam moved quickly into the building, taking note of the out of place Pontiac Solstice parked on the other side of the street, before darting up all three flights of stairs into his attic room.

Yes, he lived in an attic.

The room was one of the few things that wasn't shared within the group home, mainly because of the size, in part because nobody wanted to share a room with him, and additionally, everybody was too sissy to handle the spiders.

Almost every wall was covered in bookshelves, some holding books, some odd trinkets collected by the previous caretaker, and some host only to spiderwebs and their tenants. The one wall that wasn't, the wall that the only window was located on, was covered in tacked up drawings in all stages, penciled, inked, and coloured.

Drawing and computers, the two things he was good at.

He set the doll down on an empty bookshelf carefully, unknowingly in the view of the window, and, in turn, the Solstice parked on the other side of the street, and exited the room just as hastily as he'd entered it.

Today was his day to do chores- the day was always his day to do chores, actually- and angering Ella West... was not a good idea.

* * *

:Boss-Bot? Does that look familiar t' ya?:

The still shot was fed through the comm link.

:...Ok, Jazz, those are co-ordinates, I'll give you that. What... is that thing that they're on?:

:'S called a doll, sir. Human femmelets carry 'em around.:

:So your target is a human femmelet?:

:Nope. Human mechling, and a tiny little thing, even by human standards.:

:...Protect the human mechling and the co-ordinates. Make sure the Decepticons don't get their hands on either of them. Prime out.:

* * *

That car was still there. It had been there when he'd gotten home from school, and it was still parked in the same exact spot as before... Now that he thought of it, hadn't he seen the same car in the parking lot at school, too?

He shuddered, turning away from the window.

Thinking about it would only work him up, and he'd been having enough trouble sleeping already. If it continued, he'd bring it up with Miles, but for now...

He gently grabbed the doll from its position on the shelf and removed the glasses, an old heirloom from his great, great, great grandfather. He flopped onto the small bed, curling around it tightly.

For now, he'd just go to sleep. He'd deal with all of his problems after the nightmares.

* * *

If you need help understanding anything or if you have any questions, don't hesitate to PM me!

I wasn't gonna post anything up yet, but, seeing as my parents are gone and I have no life, I decided to be nice to the two people who reviewed. I like reviews.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm so nice. I was going to make you people wait for thew next chapter, but, well... yeah. Here ya go.

Trust me. You'd _definitely _know if I owned Transformers. But since I don't... yeah. Depressing, huh.

* * *

"Sam! Sammy, Sammy!"

He groaned and rolled out of bed and onto the floor, growling at the little giggles that followed.

"Merik, what... have I told you about waking me... before one o' clock in the afternoon?"

The little blond boy giggled again, blue eyes shining.

"No' ta."

"And why... am I awake?"

"'Cause' miss Wes' wan's us dowstairs!"

He groaned again.

"Today's... adoption day, isn't it?"

"Yep!"

"I'll... be down soon. Now scat... you little scamp."

The child skipped out of the room and down the stairs.

"Don't... even know why she makes me... go down there anyways..."

He grumbled and whined to himself as he got dressed, grabbing his doll before making his way after the small boy.

Adoption day, AKA- sitting in a corner watching as every one else but you got adopted. Even if a couple was looking for a teenager to adopt, they didn't want a damaged one that came with emotional baggage.

Plus, the mid back length hair and the bi-coloured eyes were kind of a turn off for potential parents...

He was very, very happy Adoption Day only came once a month...

He made his way to his usual corner, sitting with his back to the wall, doll in his lap, watching the people walking around the room.

One brave couple actually made their way over to him, but left after they heard him talk.

Merik was picked up and taken away by that same couple not five minutes later.

He shrugged, used to the occurrence, and left as soon as he could get away, walking over to Miles' house, keeping an eye out for that odd car that seemed to be following him everywhere.

"Sam! C'mon in! I just got this new video game and..."

Sam just smiled and nodded, not really understanding his friend's explanation (which used a lot of terms like 'adaption', 'MPRPG', 'Grid system' and other odd terms...), but happy to be with him anyways.

"Mom's making us lunch, and you're eating it, by the way. She'll throw a fit if you don't."

"Yeah... yeah. If you had to eat that crap... West Witch gives us... you'd be skinny too."

He brushed a piece of long dark hair out of his face, grimacing at the memory.

"It's just... eww."

Miles giggled and dragged him upstairs.

"C;mon, c'mon! I've been waiting to play it till you got here!"

Sam passed by Miles' window, glancing out cautiously.

"It's there again!" he hissed, pulling Miles to a stop on the landing, pointing out the window at the seemingly innocent silver Pontiac Solstice parked across the street.

"That car! It's been... following me since yesterday!"

"You sure?"

Miles was uncharacteristically serious.

"Dude, if it's been following you... that's just creepy."

Sam grinned a crazy grin and jogged back downstairs, dragging Miles along with him.

"Dude? What the hell are you doing!"

"Now... is the perfect time to confront him. If... he tries anything, within two seconds I can have a... horde of angry parents with one yell of... the word 'Rape'."

"This is a really bad idea, dude. Reeeally bad."

Sam just laughed, a manic, hoarse sound that sent chills down his friends' spine. He stopped right next to the driver side window, doll in one and, and knocked.

"Hello! Anyone... home?"

"Dammit, Sam! You're gonna get us killed!"

Miles was pulled behind his friend, yelping at the sudden movement.

"What was that for?"

"Well, now... if he has a gun... you won't get shot!"

"That's not making me feel any better!"

They were interrupted by the window rolling down, revealing a tall, deeply tanned man with black, shoulder length hair, white streaks running through it, grinning sheepishly.

"Uh, hi?"

"Hello... stranger!"

The man in the car looked at him oddly, as all people did when they heard his voice, but Sam was more focused on the fact that the edges of the guy looked... fuzzy?

"Why're you... following me?"

"Oh- uh- ya- ya noticed?"

"Yes. Yes... I did."

The other man rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.

"M' name is Jazz. I didn' mean t' creep ya out or anythin'."

"Oh?"

Sam raised an eyebrow, foot tapping impatiently.

"Just... what do you want?"

"Well, ya see, m'... uncle likes collectin' antiques and stuff, an' his birthday's comin' up soon an' I really had no idea what t' get him, but I was pickin' up one of m' cousins up for lunch yesterday an' I saw those glasses, so I asked him about you, an' was wonderin' if you'd be willin' t' sell them t' me?"

Miles grinned, slinking out from behind Sam.

"See! He's not a stalker or anything, don't know why you were freaking out about coming out here-"

He yelped as Sam yanked him back to his previous position.

"Dude, what the-"

"Close... but not the right answer."

Jazz looked at him, confused.

"Wha?"

Sam glared at him

"So close... If you had said your cousin was a girl and it was... your grandma looking for antiques, I might... have believed you."

The autobot tilted his head to the side, clearly not understanding.

"I've... hacked into the school computers. There isn't a single guy who has a relative named Jazz. Plus, the chick... who _does_ have a cousin named Jazz? She was.. at lunch yesterday and her cousin's dad passed away three years ago. You're lying."

Miles gulped, peeking out from behind Sam.

"So... Mr. Jazz Stalker, what do you really want?"

* * *

Questions, comments, critisizm, flames, just a little message saying, "Hey, you're an actual person!"... Doesn't really matter to me.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you all you nice, nice people for reviewing! It literally makes me giggle and smile like a loony person every time I see one of those messages in my inbox. Makes the day shiny and happy for me, yes it does. So, here's the next chapter. Yep.

...

...

...

...Does anybody actually read these things?

* * *

"Oi! Ya got the wrong idea there, kiddo. I ain't no stalker!"

"...You do realize you technically just said you were a stalker, right?"

"Miles. No comments... from the peanut gallery, got it?"

"Just saying..."

"What I meant," the now flustered car continued, holo now blushing deeply, "Is that I'm not a stalker. I jus' need the glasses, mkay?"

"Why?"

Sam held the doll closer to himself, eyes narrowing.

The holo smacked his head against the steering wheel, grumbling softly to himself. Why, why in Primus's name did he always have to deal with the stubborn ones...?

"Look, I just need the glasses, kay? I promise I'll leave ya alone, I just need the glasses."

"I know... you need the glasses. What I don't know... is why."

Sam paused, head tilting to the side.

"Unless... You're secretly an alien from another planet caught in a war with other aliens... and you need the glasses to lead... you to some kind of secret weapon of some kind."

Miles slapped a hand against his forehead.

"You and your ridiculous theories... Dude, aliens don't exist. There are no aliens."

"Says you."

Neither of them noticed the holo flickering from shock.

"Ehehe, yeah, no such thing... I can't tell ya why I need the glasses, I just do. Look, I'll pay ya or somethin'."

"If you... can't tell me why you need them, then why should I give them to you?"

Jazz's eyes widened and he threw open the passenger door. Ooooh, hell, not good.

"Ya see that cop car behind ya? That's why. Get in, get in!"

They both stared at the door (that had seemingly opened by itself) and back at the police car that had just turned onto the street.

"Miles?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"Police cars... don't usually say 'To punish... and enslave' on them, do they."

"No, Sam."

"Miles?"

"Yes Sam?"

"That car just... glared at us, didn't it."

"Yes, Sam."

They both jumped into Jazz's car and threw on their seat belts, glancing back at the very angry looking cop car, though how a car could be angry, neither of them were sure...

"Give me the map, and I might spare the pathetic squishy's lives."

They both shivered at the hateful, metallic voice that came from the car.

And almost screamed when the holographic image of human Jazz disappeared and a similar, metallic sounding voice yelled through the stereo, "If ya can catch m'!"

And both cars rocketed off at speeds that really shouldn't be possible, dodging in and out of the neighborhood streets onto the main highway, weaving in and out of traffic, yelling insults back and forth.

"Miles?"

"Yes Sam?"

"We're in... a talking car."

"Yes, Sam."

"Miles?"

"Yes Sam?"

The person in question just scowled, reaching around to punch the other hard.

"Dude! What was that for?"

"They... don't exist, he says, you're... nuts, he says, aliens aren't... real he says. Well? We're in... a freaking talking car, being... chased by another talking car, both of which... seem to be after my grandfather's glasses."

:Boss-Bot?:

:Do I even want to now?:

Both teens started at the sound of the new voice coming out of the stereo.

:I currently have the mechling, his friend, and the glasses.:

:Why do I feel like there's a but at the end of that statement?:

:But I'm... kinda caught in a high speed chase with Barricade.:

:Protect the mechlings. Keep Barricade away from the glasses. When you shake him off, meet us here. And, please, Jazz, try to keep the destruction to a minimum...:

:Ya got it, Boss-Bot! Jazz out.:

"See?"

Sam clutched his doll even closer, shaking his head back and forth. The Mission Impossible theme song blared through the car's stereo.

"Aliens. Freaking alien cars having a high speed chase over my glasses. Miles?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"I blame you."

"OK."

They were both quiet, trying to hold in their questions for a... less dangerous time.. After all, it wouldn't do to distract the alien car from his driving when the other alien car was trying to kill them. No, wouldn't do at all.

"Sam?"

"Yes, Miles?"

"...I think I'm in shock."

"Me too."

"Ok, then."

"Yep."

They huddled close together on their seat, watching as other cars, walls, and buildings rocketed past at unheard of speeds.

"...We're gonna die, aren't we?"

"Probably."

"OK, then."

* * *

Uhh... chapter four?


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you all the nice kind people who have made this author very happy by reviewing!

* * *

They were both surprised that no other cop cars, alien or not, had joined the chase. Though, seeing as they were the only people in the car, they considered that a good thing. Neither of them felt like getting arrested today.

"Uhh, Jazz... right?"

"Yeah?"

The voice coming through the speakers was heavy with tension, throwing out the single worded answer as the car dodged around another slow moving vehicle and swerved down a side street, closely followed by the other talking alien car.

"If you keep going straight, and take... a left at the next intersection, there should be a train passing through in about... three minutes. Would that help?"

"Good squishy! Very good squishy! That's great! Hang on ti', got it? We're prolly gonna be pushin' it reeeal close!"

The Mission Impossible theme song drifted away, only to be replaced by some techno song from the Blade movie.

"Woohooo!"

The car rocketed forwards at nearly impossible speeds, terrifying the crap out of both passengers. The intersection came up and the car drifted to the left, passing through the train tracks not ten seconds before said train blasted past, blocking the evil demon police car from view.

Miles and Sam both shuddered at the angry howl that followed them.

"Now that we're not being chased by Satan's Saleen, can you explain to us exactly what the hell is going on here?"

"Uh, yeah, 'bout that... Boss-Bot's gonna cover all that stuff. M' not very good wit' explainin' things..."

"Great."

Miles flopped back onto the seat, head cracking against the passenger door.

"How do we know you're not Satan's Solstice, dude?"

"He's good."

"Sam?"

Miles glanced over at his friend, eyebrow raised, only to notice the odd, glazed over look in his eyes, one that usually meant his friend was doing that weird, 'I just Know' thing.

"He's good... Miles."

"Let me guess."

Miles smacked the back of his head against the door again, groaning at the weirdness of it all.

"You just 'Know'. With a capital K."

"Yep."

Jazz's voice filled the car again.

"He... Knows? What's that 'bout, now?"

"He found a really weird rock on vacation a while ago. Gets these odd little... fits? I guess, and he just... Knows stuff. Carries it around with him everywhere."

"Rock? What shape is it? How big?"

Sam scowled at the stereo.

"What... first you want my glasses... and now you wanna steal my rock... too? My rock, dammit! Mine!"

"No way, man! M' not gonna steal noth- anything. I'm not gonna steal anythin'. Are all younglin's on your planet so... suspicious? Geez, I keep having the urge to defend m'self, man!"

Sam's face went blank.

"I... have a good reason... to be suspicious."

The car was quiet. They spent another five minutes in silence, broken only by the occasional burst of static over the radio.

The car turned into an abandoned warehouse, pulling to a stop in front of a door that stood slightly ajar.

"Ok, kiddies, free ride's over, gotta get out. Don't wanna squish y', after all."

They both leapt out of the car and, after the order from jazz, backed up several feet.

What followed next was something neither of them expected.

The car, with a loud grinding of gears and an odd, mechanical noise Sam and Miles had never heard before, transformed. Transformed into a _giant, alien robot._

"OhdeargodI'mdreaming-"

Sam smacked Miles over the back of the head.

"Ow!"

"If it hurt, you're... not dreaming. We're... not dreaming... There is a giant alien robot standing in front of us... Oh, dear god..."

The robot- Jazz, Jazz was a robot? was somewhere between 15 to 17 feet tall with parts and pieces similar to the car they'd been riding in- _they'd been riding inside the car mode of a giant alien robot!_

"Aliens! Aliens, I tell you! Miles... you can no... longer laugh at me or call me crazy. Neh."

"Dude, we're both crazy!"

"Neither of y' are crazy! Geez, calm down!"

Jazz shook his... head? Helm? What ever the hell it was- at them both, placing a hand flat on the ground, palm up.

"C'mon, y' want answers, ri'? Boss-Bot's got 'em."

Sam grinned his crazy grin and leapt up onto the hand, glancing back to his friend.

"Miles?"

"Nononononono!"

Miles shook his head, backing away.

"There is no _way you_ are convincing me to get on that thing! You honestly have a death wish, don't you!"

"Miles."

The other looked up at his friend, perched on the silver hand of a giant alien robot, and winced at the expression on his face. He knew exactly what that face meant. That was the 'Either you do what I ask or I'll make you die of guilt' face. Nothing ever ended well when Sam used that face. Ever.

"Miles, in forty or fifty years, when... you're old and wrinkly, and your grandchildren are gathered around you... How will you feel if you had to tell them you didn't take the chance? Just think, Miles!"

His friend held out a hand, pleading eyes fixed on his own.

" Fifty years from now... when you're looking back at your life, don't... you want to be able to say you had the guts to get on the giant alien robot?"

"Dammit, dude, when you put it that way..."

Miles grabbed Sam's hand and let his friend pull him up onto Jazz's... hand? Servo? Oh, who cares?

Jazz brought them close, other hand placed under the first.

"Gotta, say, man, that was some smooth talkin'. Almost as good as m', an' I work Special Ops for a livin'!"

"Thank you, thank you... I sign autographs every tuesday and thursday."

"Ok, kiddies, warnin': 'Hide's a liiiittle... trigger-happy."

Miles turned to Sam, eye twitching.

"If I'm murdered by a giant alien robot, my ghost will come back to haunt you for the rest of your miserable existence. Forever."

"Heard and understood, Miles."

Jazz ducked through the large garage door and was almost immediately set upon by a yellow alien robot that had at least two or three feet on the one they were currently sitting on.

" _Just stand me up. _**_You sure you're going to be OK?_**" _(Jackass the movie)_

"M' cool, 'Bee! It's nice ta see ya again! Ya good?"

The other robot grinned at Jazz, nodding his head up and down happily.

_ "I'm OK, Forrest. _**_I'm OK. I'm fine." _**_(Forrest Gump)_

Jazz laughed and reached up to pat the other's head with his free hand.

"That's good ta know! Y' gettin' pretty good at manipulatin' those sound bytes, aren't ya?"

_"Oh, l got a pretty good idea, but, uh... **Y**_**_ou know, practice does make perfect._**_" (Starship Troopers 2)_

"Heh, sure seems like it. Th' others here yet?"

The yellow 'bot nodded again and pointed over to the other side of the warehouse.

"OI! BOSS-BOT!"

A large red and blue semi-looking thing straightened up to it's full height and walked over to Jazz.

"Little bitches, may I introduce th' leader of our faction, Optimus Prime!"

* * *

God, this fiction terrified me. I had pre typed about eight or nine chapters when, all the sudden, my computer died. And not like, "Oh, it's dead, gotta wait till I can get a new part," dead, dead as in, "Oh, it's dead, you have to wait a year to get a new laptop," dead. And all my fanfiction went bye bye, which includes this, Harte's Hope, some random Invader Zim fanfiction, and another random Xmen Evo fanfiction.

So, after practically dying from sorrow, my gracious genius of a father managed to download everything onto the family computer, yay! Only to realize, when I opened it with the intention of posting a new chapter, oh. It looked like this.

c/c/p

p style="Normal" xid="88"c/c/p

p style="Normal" xid="89":Boss-Bot? Does dat look familiar tll give you that. What... c/cc props="font-style:italic"is/c that thing that theyS called a doll, sir. Human femmelets carry t get their hands on either of them. Prime out.:c/c/p

p style="Normal" xid="102"c/c/p

p style="Normal" xid="103"

Yeah. Soo, I finally managed to fix it after downloading some weird program for the computer. Yay me.


	6. Chapter 6

I'm sooo sorry about not posting for so long! I like to have chapters pre-written before I start posting, and I kind of ran out. So, Here's the next chapter!

PS. I will not be able to post as much as I would like. If you want to know why, I have the whole explanation in the latest chapter of Harte's Hope, so, it's there.

PPS. I do't own TF or any of the movies used here. All I own is my pathetic writing skillz and the crappy plot, so, there you go.

* * *

Both boys stared up at the giant.

"...Miles?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"Our giant alien robot... isn't really that giant, is it?"

"No, Sam. No, it isn't."

"Oi!"

Spell broken, they turned to look op at Jazz.

"They got ye nailed, Jazz!"

"'Hiiiiide! I'm not short!"

"_For a short person, you're not bad. __More tea?_"

"C'mon, 'Bee, not you too!"

"Technically, for our species, you are of rather small stature, Jazz."

"Ratchet!"

Sam and Miles turned to look at the two new robots, one black and somewhere around seven or eight feet taller than Jazz with a cannon stuck to each arm, and the other a yellow green colour usually found on emergency vehicles, about five or six feet taller than Jazz. Optimus Prime, the supposed leader of whatever the hell group they'd gotten stuck with, was a good ten feet taller. At least.

"It's good t' see ye in one piece, speakerbot."

"Good to see you too, 'Hide, even if ya do make fun of m'!"

"The glasses, Jazz?"

"Oh, right! Boss-Bot and assorted others, meet... Sam and Miles, right?"

They nodded, eyes wide, trying to take in the sight of five giant alien robots standing in front of them. Sam clutched his doll to his chest, shoulders curling in a bit, Miles huddled next to his side.

The yellow 'bot bounced up to them, grinning widely.

"_Hey, how you doing, Jack? Nice to meet you._"

"...Uh, dude? Neither of our names are Jack..."

The little 'bot- well, not really little, but he seemed somehow... smaller than all the other bots- winced and looked away, kicking at the floor sadly.

_** "**__I can't even talk to you...**" **_

"Bumblebee can't talk. He's been using sound clips off the Internet to communicate with us."

"Oh... That's ok, Bumblebee. That's kinda... cool how you can do that, though. Wish... I had something like that when my voice gave out!"

Bumblebee perked up almost immediately, pulling another sound clip out of nowhere.

"_Gosh, you're all so nice._"

Sam giggled, pushing Miles playfully.

"He... could probably give you a run... for your money, Mr Quote King!"

"But he's cheating and pulling them offa the Internet!"

"...So?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but which one of you has the glasses?"

Miles pointed to Sam.

"All him, giant robot dude, the one with the death wish!"

"They're at... the group home. I left them there when I... went over you your house, Miles."

Sam turned a suspicious eye over to the robot leader.

"Why do you want them, anyways?"

"We need them to win the war against a separate faction of cybertronians known as the 'Decepticons'."

Bumblebee growled angrily, a harsh, static filled sound that obviously caused him some pain.

"_These are barbaric people. Servants of evil. The cult of evil. This is a__ monumental struggle of good versus evil._"

"How about you start at the beginning? Like, what's a... cybertronian, what are the decept...decepticons, what are you, what you need Sam's gerat-great-something-or-others glasses for..."

Optimus sighed.

" Before time began, there was the Allspark. We knew not where it comes from, only that it holds the power to create worlds and fill them with life. That is how our race was born. For a time, we, the Cybertronians, lived in harmony on the planet called Cybertron."

Bubmlebee huddled against his leader's side, whining sadly.

"But like all great power, some wanted it for good, others for evil. And so began the war. The Cybertronians were divided. Brother against brother, Creator against creation... It was a terrible war, a war that ravaged our planet until it was consumed by death, and the Allspark was lost to the far reaches of space."

Optimus gently nudged 'Bee over to Ratchet and began pacing, wringing his hands.

"The different factions, the Autobots and the Decepticons," here, almost everyone in the room hissed or growled in anger,"fled the wasted remains of the Primus forsaken wasteland that used to be our home. We scattered across the galaxy, hoping to find the Allspark and rebuild Cybertron, to return it to it's former glory. Searching every star, every world. And just when all hope seemed lost, message of a new discovery drew us to an unknown planet called... Earth."

"What my great great great grandfather found... A giant metal monster... frozen in ice... strange, foreign symbols... a cube of unimaginable power..."

"You know of the Allspark?"

Sam shook his head, wincing at the disappointed expressions.

"My grandfather... he went on an expedition to the Arctic Circle... a very long time ago. When he... returned, he was different. He began to... see things, to write in a strange language no one had ever seen before... He spoke of a giant metal man, and of a glowing cube that held more ower... than an atomic bomb..."

Sam shook his head, smiling grimly.

"They thought he was insane and forced him into a mental institution."

"Sam, you said that you found a weird rock and now... you Know things, right? Can we see it?"

Sam looked at them all, eyes glazing over.

Bumblebee went to nudge him, but Miles stopped the yellow bot.

"No, don't touch him. He's... the only way to put it is that he's Knowing. That's what the rock does. It makes him Know things."

"The rock makes him know things."

Ratchet looked at Miles sceptically, though how a robot could look at someone sceptically no one was sure.

"Not know, Know. With a capital K. It's like... he just knows things without learning them. Like the only reason we actually stuck around with Jazz is because Sam Knew he wasn't a bad guy. Or like Sam just touched the rock and poof! He knows the basics of mechanics, or computers, or math. It's crazy, I know, but-"

Sam dug into his pocket and pulled out a very small, perfectly cube shaped rock.

Optimus' optics widened, and he took several steps forward.

"That's... That's a fragment of the Allspark!"

* * *

Ooohhhh, plot twist!

Movies used, in order-

Hanover Street

Titanic

American History X

Meet the Robinsons

War Made Easy: How Presidents & Pundits Keep Spinning Us to Death


	7. Chapter 7

... If I owned anything in this fanfiction, it would _not_ be child appropriate.

I tried to get this out for christmas, but many horrible things conspired against me- like my awesome fluffy bed, Mommy-enforced "Family-Time", and my little brother punching me out so he could get on FaceBook. Yep.

Soo... Merry belated generic holiday?

(I'm politically correct, lol.)

(PS- "~**This is Cybertronian. Ironhide tried to be sneaky, but failed.**~")

* * *

Miles looked back and forth between the shocked Optimus Prime and his friend.

"The Allspark's the thingy you're looking for, right?"

The leader visibly gathered himself, eyes still glued to the minuscule cube in Sam's hand.

"I- yes, yes it is. And that rock you're holding is a piece of it. A small piece, admittedly, but a piece nonetheless. It still holds power."

The black autobot with the cannons stepped forward, placing a hand on the other's shoulder.

"~**Should we take it from him?**~"

Sam snarled and edged away, almost falling off of Jazz's hand.

"~**No! You're not taking it from me! I found it and it's mine!**~"

All five robots looked at him in shock.

"Uh, dude? What did you just say to them?"

"You... heard me! You're right there, Miles!"

"Yeah I heard you, but I didn't understand a single word you said..."

"Wh-what? But... I spoke in English..."

"No, man, ya spoke in our native language. Ya just spoke Cybertronian."

Sam twitched, eyes darting up to Jazz.

"But I spoke... in English. It sounded like English... to me, anyways..."

"But you didn't. This... Humans shouldn't even be able to speak Cybertronian anyways. And there was no one to teach him!"

"_I heard you speaking Parseltongue. Snake language. I spoke a different language? But I didn't realize__**..."**_

Jazz grinned, patting 'Bee on the head.

"He's got a point. Maybe it's just something he knows?"

"Or Knows," Miles piped in.

"You said that the rock was a part of your spark-thingy, right? Well, if it's yours, wouldn't it make sense that Sam Knows your language?"

Ratchet nodded, pulling a scanner out of nowhere and running it over the human who had quite a lot of surprises packed away in his tiny frame.

"Excuse... m**e? That's kind of r**ude, you know. What does... that **thing even do, **anyways?"

"Assesses your body's status and compares it to what is considered the norm for your species."

"Well, not a **lot's gonna... match** up. I'm not really... the poster boy for good **health**."

The scanner flashed red, beeping softly.

"I... take it **that's not** good?"

"You're underweight, dehydrated, suffering from severe scarring to the lungs, throat, back, and left arm, exhausted, and... there. Your body is infused with Allspark energy, probably from the fragment..."

"And that... means?"

"The fragment's chosen you. Even if we try to take it, Ironhide," here, the emergency vehicle glared at the bot with the cannons, "It will just return to you. Plus..."

"Plus?"

"**Considering your overall condition and what a typical human can survive, it's probably the only thing keeping you alive."**

"...Oh. Ok, then."

Miles tugged on a shirt sleeve.

"What'd he say?"

"Nothin', Miles... just forget it."

"We weren't planning on taking it in the first place, though. You found it, and it's yours to keep."

Sam nudged Miles with his elbow, whispering under his breath, "I like that one, he agrees with me."

Only to realize that his friend... was pissed off.

"You-you-you-"

"...Miles?"

"Gah! You idiot!"

And proceeded to whack his friend hard enough upside the head to knock him flat onto Jazz's hand.

"Oi! Miles, I... get enough abuse from the group home!"

"Did you hear what the ambulance-"

"Ratchet," Jazz mentioned helpfully, watching the events unfolding on his hand with interest.

"-Ratchet said? Exhausted. Underweight. Dehydrated. I- you- gah!"

Miles threw his hands up in the air, making odd, wringing motions with his hands.

"You are going to eat more if it's the _last thing you do_!"

"Miles? Can we... _not_ have this argument in front of the giant alien robots?"

"No," he hissed, eyes narrowing, "We are having this conversation _now_. We are going to go home, you are going to eat a full meal, drink a full glass of water, then go get a full night's sleep. _Then_ we can give the giant alien robots whatever they want. Understood?"

"But Miles-"

"_Un-der-stood_?"

"Yes, Miles," Sam said, head ducked sheepishly.

Miles turned to Optimus, hands on his hips.

"Look, I know the spark thingy is reeeally important to you guys, but you can wait one more day. I need to get my friend home before he_ kills himself with his stupidity_!"

The last part was bit out at the cowering boy next to him.

"Yes, yes, perfectly understood, Jazz, if you would take them home? Good, I'll just be over there then..."

And the courageous leader of the Autobot forced fled from the minuscule human that was acting eerily similar to Ratchet.

"Huh, what got him all freaked out...?"

Bumblebee bounded over to Jazz and tapped his shoulder, looking down at him pleadingly.

"_I can help you. You want me to, don't ya?_"

Jazz, never able to resist the cute little robo-puppy-pleading-eyes-of-doom, sighed and motioned towards their cowardly leader.

"Only if Optimus says it's Ok."

'Bee cheered, a crackly, static-y painful sound, and bounced over to their leader, skipping back not thirty seconds later, grinning cheekily.

"Ya take Miles and follow me, 'kay?"

Bee nodded and transformed into a beat up old Camaro, throwing open the passenger door for Miles to get in. Jazz set Sam down on the ground and transformed, mimicking 'Bee.

Both cars took off, taking the children to Miles' house.

"So, kiddo, you said somethin' earlier about ya voice givin' out? Didn't think that happened t' humans..."

"I... there was a fire... the smoke damaged my lungs and throat. I... couldn't talk for almost a year. It still sticks sometimes."

"Oh."

Jazz, being the special ops bot that he was, was well aware that he was treading dangerous territory and should probably back off...

"Where exactly did you find a piece of the Allspark?"

Sam pulled the object out of his pocket, running his fingers over it, only now noticing the odd design stamped into two sides of the cube.

"My parents... took me on vacation with them a long time ago... I think I was about seven. We went to the Hoover Dam in Nevada, and I found the rock embedded in one of the walls. It fell out into my hand when I touched it, and I decided to keep it."

"I guess it really did pick you, then."

They pulled into a stop in front of Miles' house, where Miles then dragged Sam out of the car and into said house for food, water and rest. Jazz himself pulled up next to 'Bee and drifted into recharge.

* * *

Movie quotes used:

Twelve Monkeys

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Sorry for making you wait!


	8. Chapter 8

Ok, first thing's first, all I own is my questionable personalities and even more questionalbe imaginary thingies. Transformers is not mine, no matter how much I may whine and beg and plead and cry. Neither are any of the other movies or movie quptes mentioned. Dammit.

Second, would you be interested in a Transformers human fic? I have, like, fourty something pages written, and while I think it's crap, some friends have been pushing me to upload it. Interested?

* * *

"Oi! Lazy, giant alien robot... that happens to be disguised as a car! Feel... like driving me home any time soon?"

Jazz shook himself, groggily throwing open the passenger door, flicking on the holo as he did.

After all, being caught driving a car with no driver would really go against his boss's orders to blend in...

"Where do you live again?"

The holo yawned, rubbing his eyes with one hand and putting the car in gear with the other, sliding smoothly out of the deserted neighborhood streets and onto the main road.

"Ella West's Home for Children. It's about three more blocks, then take a right and drive for five."

"Home for children? We had something like that on Cybertron, in the city of Vos, but... we were at war, and the plan failed anyway. Is this planet at war as well?"

"No. The group home... is for people whose parents have died or don't want them. They... We have no where else to go, so... the government sets up orphanages and... group homes to care of the abandoned children."

The holo turned towards him, a horrified look on it's face.

"Creators abandon their sparklings? But... why? why would anybody do-"

He cut himself off, shivering.

"Just the idea... it's horrifying. Sparklings are gifts. Very few mechs can make their own, it takes the combination of two very, very powerful sparks to make a sparkling. To abandon something that you put so much life into..."

"I would explain all the other horrid, nasty things that parents do to their children, but I don't want you to crash the car. Besides," Sam looked apprehensively at the doorway, or, more specifically, the terrifying presence looming in said doorway, "You'll probably find some ways out pretty soon."

Jazz's holo stared at him with wide eyes and the car moved to lock the door, but Sam was already out of the car and in the doorway.

"You worthless idiot! If you want to eat, then you damn well better work to earn it! Where the hell have you been all day, hmm? And who is that!"

Sam just looked away.

_SMACK_

The caretaker's hand was outstretched, extended in the action of smacking the boy across the street. She grabbed Sam by the hair and pulled him into the house, shrieking all the while.

Jazz used an internal server to hook up to the Internet and connect to google.

_What does it mean when your caretaker hits you?_

_

* * *

_

Sam sighed and shifted uncomfortably on his bed.

It... well, it wasn't really a _beating_, he wasn't abused after all, but the few hits he'd received had been hard enough to bruise, making lying on his back rather uncomfortable.

He rolled over on to his side and held his doll close, staring at the blank wall across from him intently, searching, as if it held all the answers to his current predicament.

Not that it did.

He sincerely doubted that anyone had any answers, not him, not Miles, not the Autobots, or the Decepticons, or the wall, unfortunately.

First things first.

A race of giant alien robots, whose war destroyed their entire planet, have now landed on earth to complete said war using a cube-looking-thing that he had a piece of, and the supposedly 'good' side needed his great great great grandfather's glasses to do it.

Second.

Said race of giant alien robots knew where he lived, and while that may not be a problem (he really didn't care what happened to himself, anyways) the fact that they also knew where _Miles_ lived, well, that was the problem.

Three.

If he refused to help said giant alien robots, they, seeing as they are giant, could easily squish he and his friend. _With a single finger. _Not to mention the fact that the opposite faction, the 'bad' guys, were also looking for the cube thing. And if they found him... he probably wouldn't be given a choice.

Plus, if they didn't have the cube thing, what's stopping them from doing the same thing to this planet that they did to their own?

Ok.

Option one: Refuse to help. Most likely outcome? Death of himself and/or Miles. There was _no way_ he'd let anything happen to Miles because _he_ was being stalked by Satan's Solstice.

Option two: Give the glasses to the Autobots and demand they leave him alone. Most likely outcome? The Autobots would likely do what he asked, but the Decepticons would probably come after him, if the way the others had reacted to the name had anything to do with how they acted... And, in coming after him, would probably harm Miles as well. Not cool.

Option three: Get the authorities involved and let them handle it. Most likely outcome? One way ticket to the loony bin, and then he'd still have to worry about the Decepticons.

Option four: Join the Autobots, raise all merry hell, and put Miles in a near constant state of heart attacki-ness. Most likely outcome? Eh, whatever, it sounded like the most fun option anyways.

Decision made, Sam cuddled his doll and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Meanwhile, Miles was having a different sort of mental epiphany.

The kind of epiphany where you realize your best friend is an idiot and you want to kill him very, very much.

Yes, that kind of epiphany.

He was currently pacing up and down in front of the old, beat up Camaro that just so happened to turn into a giant alien robot that seemed to have made itself at home in his parent's garage.

Joy.

He'd already explained away the car by saying it was an old fix-'er-upper that Sam had helped him rescue from the Scrapyard, but they still weren't happy about it.

"So."

He pulled a lawn chair over to the car and faced it, squinting slightly.

"Your name is Bumblebee?"

"_That's my name, don't wear it out!_"

"Ok, right... and you are a giant, alien robot."

" _Uh, yes, yes I am. Where did I go?_"

"Ok. And you guys really need that Allspark thing, don't you."

" _I've been dreaming about it,_ _I can 't live without it...__**" **_

"...Sam is an idiot, isn't he."

" _Most definitely. Um, in his own way._"

"I'm just gonna have to live through this, then."

* * *

Movie quote thingies, in order-:

Random well known quote that I'm too lazy to look up

Toy Story 3

Bend It Like Beckham

Bones

* * *

Hope you enjoy!


	9. Chapter 9

New chapter for you. So, I have a poll upon my profile, and so far two people have voted on it. Thank you, two people, I appreciate it.

* * *

Jazz was waiting for him when he walked out of the house the next day. The passenger door flipped open, hologram waving to him from the drivers seat, odd expression on it's face.

"What's up, man?"

The normally happy (from what he knew, anyways) mech was strangely subdued.

Sam frowned at the mech, putting his backpack down on the floor of the car.

"Nothin'... much. You ok? You're... acting different."

"... Your caretaker hit you last night."

"And let me guess," Sam said, "You googled it."

"Do people really do that t' their sparklings? They really... hurt them like that?"

"Yeah."

The car swerved to the left and into an alleyway, passenger door swinging open and gravity depositing him neatly onto the ground.

The odd, mechanical sound filled the dark space and Jazz the robot stood before him, shivering.

"I- Why? How? Bee-bee's a sparkling and I can't even imagine anybot hurtin' him! Especially not me!"

"Just what... is a sparking to you?"

He plopped down on the ground, resting Sam on on of his knees.

"A sparklin' is a... newspark, I guess. 'Bee ain't really a sparklin' anymore, more of a younglin', but-"

"How about... from the beginning? Like, 'what is a youngling' kind... of beginning."

"Cybertronian childhood is divided int' three separate stages: sparklin', younglin', and mechlin'. Ratch' would prolly know more 'bout this than me..."

"Ratchet would probably join the decepticons... in annihilating the human race if he found out about this."

Jazz nodded, expression grim.

"I think most of us would freak out, 'specially with 'Bee here. Just... the whole concept just- Whatever, ok. Sparklin's are like the human 'quivalent of babies, from onlinin' 'till about... 10 vorns, I think-"

Sam clamoured up from the mechs knee to his shoulder, tapping the side of his faceplates, questioning.

"A Vorn is...?"

"'Bout 83 human years? Yeah, I think that's it... Uh, after that, they're considered younglin's, and they're younglin's from 10 vorns 'till about... 40 vorns, and after that, they're called mechlin's, which I'd guess is th' 'quivalent to the human teenager, and they're not considered mechs 'til a full 80 vorns after that."

"So, Bumblebee is...?"

"'Bout th' 'quivalent to a... ten or eleven year old child, I think. 'M about nineteen or twenty, Ironhide's, like, fourty or something, Ratchet's about thirty, and Boss-bot's about twenty seven."

"So, Optimus Prime's pretty young to be leading a war."

Jazz grinned wryly, leaning against the alley wall.

"We're all too young to be in this war, but we ain't gotta choice."

They sat in silence for a while, neither noticing a small camera perched in the window of the building across from them,

"So, what... were you saying? About the sparklings?"

"Oh, yeah! Well, sparklin's 're pretty rare, 'cause there's only three way's you can get 'em, and two out of three require ya t' build the body yerself or get someone else ta do it for you, and most bots don't have the time or money."

"Ya can go to Vector Sigma, a really complicated super computer thingy, but it's really, really picky 'bout who it gives sparks to. Then, there's the Allspark-"

"The thing you're trying to find?"

"Th' very same. Anyways, it can make sparks too, but only a certain amount every vorn. Then, there's the third option, sparkmergin'. It only works with sparkbonded, though, and you need two crazy strong sparks t' make a sparklin'. If the sparklin's in a femme- a female on your planet- then the protoform builds itself out of excess metals, but if it's in a mech-"

"Guys can have babies?"

"Uh, yeah, they can't on your planet?"

"No, no they can't. And there... is no way I'm giving a giant alien robot the whole 'birds and the bees' shtick, so... if you wanna know why, use the Internet."

"...Ok? Well, if it's in a mech, then ya have t' build the bodies yerselves, which is hard on a lot a people."

"Ok. Well, people on earth don't have that problem. In fact, getting pregnant is so easy that people do it on accident all the time, which leads to the three A's: abandonment, abuse, and abortion. None of them are nice things.:"

"Are all humans like this?"

"No, not also have the opposite side of the spectrum, like Miles' parents. They love their kid so much it's ridiculous."

"So, not all people are bad?"

"Nope. But, seriously, though...You don't have any of those kinds of problems on your planet?"

Jazz carefully picked up Sam and placed him on the ground before transforming, passenger door swinging open.

"Not with sparklin's. We get abuse from... significant others? But never for sparklin's... Until Megatron came along, that is."

Sam had a feeling that whatever Jazz was going to say, he wouldn't like it very much...

"For the war, a... care center was opened up inna neutral city called Vos. All the sparklin's of th' war mechs, no matter what side they were on, were sent t' Vos in order t' keep 'em out of the fightin'... but Megatron..."

"What'd he do?" Sam asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Bombed th' whole thing. Didn't leave a single sparklin' alive."

Sam gasped, hands clasped over his mouth, sudden nausea making his stomach roll dangerously.

"He... why?"

Jazz sped up, angrily weaving his way between two slow moving cars, paying no heed to the frustrated honks he got in return.

"Because some of them were autobots, because he needed the seekers on his side, because he's absolutely fraggin' crazy- who knows?"

* * *

Yess, who knows indeed?


	10. Chapter 10

Holy crap. Just... holy crap. There are no words in existence that can even come remotely close to expressing how sorry I am for being such a bitch. I am so sorry for not posting anything up sooner, but for all of you who are actually interested, here's an explanation:

1. I had a horrible sinus infection that ended up screwing with my inner ear so I coudln't even sit up straight, much less do anything else.

2. Luckily, I got over that, but as soon as I did, I had to leave and was gone in England/France from Saturday moring, 10:00, to the next Monday night, 11:00. I was gone 10 days.

3. Right after that, I had to suffer through the private school equivalent of TAKS testing.

4. Literally the weekend right after I got back from Europe, my mom dragged me to Mississippi to look at colleges.

5. The weekend right after that, I was at Baylor.

6. Aaand the weekend after that, I was writing essays for my English teacher, and unfortunately, fan-fiction does not count as College Essay A. I wish it did.

Here are my pitiful excuses, i hope you can forgive me.

* * *

"Uh, Jazz, you might... wanna slow down. There's a cop... Oh. Never mind, that's just the crazy psycho robot that chased us yesterday. Go as fast as you want."

"Huh?"

The silver Solstice nearly swerved into oncoming traffic in shock.

"Wha'? Where?"

"To the left of you."

"You're really calm 'bout all this."

Sam shrugged, placing the doll in his lap and clutching the dashboard with both hands.

"Well, no reason to freak, right? It's not going to help- if anything, it'll make everything worse."

"Righ', righ'. Look, is there any place that's pretty much empty? Ah'm not gonna b' able to outrun him again."

"Well... there's an old car-yard about two miles from here, just turn left then straight."

"T'ank you kindly."

Jazz swerved sharply, weaving in and out of traffic. Satan's Saleen flashed his lights, sirens blaring, and the crowded highway parted like the red sea.

"Duuude," the silver car groaned, "that is soo cheatin'. Ok, kiddo, listen up," Jazz said, suddenly serious, " Ah'm gonna throw open th' door and you're gonna have to jump out. When y' do, roll as far away as possible. I dun' wanna accidentally squish yawhen I transform, soo..."

"I get it."

"Ok, now!"

The car swung to the side, passenger door opening. Sam leapt out of the moving vehicle, tucking himself into a ball and rolling away. The mechanical, techno sound effect noise of the two cars transforming accompanied his run for some rather dubious looking cover.

"Barri-_cade_, my man, I haven't seen ya in a while!"

"Where is the boy."

Jazz... the only word Sam could use to describe the action was, well, pouting. His giant alien robot watchdog was pouting.

The silver bot crossed his arms and tapped a foot, looking for all the world like an irate housewife.

"Cadie, baby, is that all ya have t' say t' meh? Ya never call, y' never write, why, the kids are missin' their daddy, honey!"

"Autobot Jazz, there is no time for your foolery. Where is the boy?"

Maybe it was just Sam, but he could have sworn there was a note of urgency in the heavily vocoded voice.

"N' time t' play w' me? Aww, too sad. I haven't had a good bantering session in forevah!"

The large, intimidating Decepticon growled, pounding a hand with his opposite fist.

"There is no _time_! Where is the boy!"

Sam stepped out from behind his rock, being careful to stay at least partially behind Jazz. No need for random giant alien robots to et trigger happy- well, not without his metal shield, at least...

"Why do you need me?"

"Sam, get back!"

"You!"

The other robot- Barricade?- turned towards him, an almost terrified gleam in his crimson optics.

"You! You are the key to everything, Samuel Witwickey! The Allspark, the Energon, and especially... the cure. You have the cure... you could fix _everything_..."

"Uh, Cadie? Yer talkin' nonsense, baddie bot."

Jazz subtly moved himself in front of Sam, protecting the fragile human from any sort of attack the frantic bot might throw their way.

"You don't understand! You-"

:Incoming Transmission:

Barricade jerked, knowing full well that Jazz could hear every word.

:No, no! Deny! De-:

:'Cade! We need you back here now!:

The line was filled with static and something that sounded like screaming. Jazz, who was broadcasting the transmission for Sam's benefit, looked at the human in confusion.

:No, Sky, st-:

:It's Screamer! The glitched slag-head who calls himself our leader put him on SD again, and another one died! He's going nuts!:

The screaming grew louder.

"Jazz? What's SD?"

The silver bot shook his head.

"I don't know, Sam..."

:Sky, it's not his-:

:I know, TC! Trust me, I do, but that doesnt' mean I'm not mad at him!:

:Trine, this conversation isn't as private as you think it is!:

The lines went silent, except for the ever present screaming.

:Just get here.:

:Understood.:

Barricade cut the transmission line.

"What the slag was that?"

"I can't- there's no time! I already told you that! Just..."

He transformed into his car mode, scuffed black and white paint gleaming dully.

"Just remember that nothing is as it seems, and even the good guys don't always tell the truth."

And with that, the car pealed out in a cloud of dust.

* * *

I hope you accept this piece of crap chapter as a peace offering.


	11. Chapter 11

Once again, I'm sorry that RL sucks and I haven't posted anything in forever.

...

Peace offering?

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Sam and Jazz stared after the retreating car, shock and confusion evident on both of their features.

Neither of them were really sure what had happened...

"Did... you just see evil demon car go racing away?"

"Uh, yeah, dude. What 'bout you?"

"Uh huh."

Jazz transformed back into a car, swinging open his passenger side door.

"Jazz? Do you know what he meant... by 'Not all good guys tell the truth'?

"I c'n only guess, man."

Sam sprawled out over the seats, back resting against the door and feet propped up on the hologram's lap.

"I didn't know holograms could be solid..."

"All Hound, little dude," Jazz's voice sounded, eerily coming from the holo's mouth and the speakers.

"Hound?"

"Another 'bot. Speakin' of which, you never actually met th' others, did ya?"

"No, it was kind... of like, "OMG alien ROBOTS!" then "Give us the glasses, we come in peace" then "Dude! That's... the ALLSPARK!""

Jazz laughed.

"Heh, well, that sounds about righ'! They- meanin' Ratchet, mostly- wanna ask you questions."

Jazz felt the skinny teenager stiffen in the seat, barely noticable if not for the sensors that lined the entire cab.

"Hey, hey! Calm down, little dude, I ain't gonna let anythin' happen t' ya!"

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not... exactly the tallest person out there. Do you realize just how easy it would be for them to step on me if I didn't give them the answers they wanted?"

Jazz cracked up, frame shaking from the effort to keep himself in alternate mode.

"Seriously? C'mon, kiddo, do I seem like th' kinda person t' let anybot step on ya?"

Sam shifted, embarrassed.

"Well... No, but accidents happen, right?"

"Not these kinds!"

Jazz pulled up to a stop next to the same warehouse they'd gone to yesterday and flipped open the passenger door, nearly sending Sam tumbling to the ground.

"C'mon, c'mon, little dude! Let's go!"

Sam grumbled and climbed out of the robot/car, scowling.

"What's the hurry? It's not like they're gonna... disappear..."

The shifty, electric noise of gears sliding around accompanied the sight of the Solstice turing into Jazz, who held out a hand. Sam climbed on, gripping a finger tightly to keep his balance.

"This time, you're actually gonna get introduced! BB should've already brought your friend here, so c'mon!"

The silver 'bot bounced through the warehouse door, announcing his presence with a loud, "Look who's in da house, baby!"

"Jazz, ye idiot, don't surprise meh like that!"

Sam hit the deck as soon as he realized the large black mech's cannons were pointed at the sheepish siver mech.

"Don't shoot! I'm too annoying to die!"

"Got that right!"

Miles was sitting on the medic's- Ratchet's?- hand, snickering at his friend's plight.

"Ironhide, put away your cannons. You're terrifying the child."

Sam scrambled behind his not-so-giant giant robot as soon as the gun was pointed away.

"I swear, you are going to be the death of me, you not-so-giant robot," he muttered, glaring up at said not-so-giant robot.

"Aw, don' be like dat! "

"Whatever. Just.. get me up out of squishing distance, please?"

Jazz laughed and set down a hand, gesturing for Sam to climb up before lifting it to chest level.

"Sammy, this is Ratchet, resident medic and all around scary mech. If he has a wrench in his hands, run. Or dodge."

Sam waved a hand at the neon yellow/green mech.

"Uh, wazzup?"

The yellow-green mech pointed an oddly shaped box and he dodged behind one of the large fingers, just in case it was a weapon. You could never tell with those aliens, after all.

"Oh, calm down, Sammy, he just wants to scan you!"

"Calm down? An alien is pointing something unrecognizable at me, which could either shoot lasers or be filled with freaky alien radiation, and you want me to calm down?"

Miles, from his position seated atop the medic's shoulder, grinned down at him.

"Yep. It's just a scan, jeez..."

"Yeah, a scan that probably uses harmful gamma rays or something else that'll make me regurgitate green slime and turn into a fish boy."

"Just put th' scanner away, Ratch. Th' pipsqueak obviously won't stay still lahk a good boy, so there's no point in tryin'."

The large black mech who'd pointed the gun thingies at Jazz elbowed the medic- Ratchet- in the side, smirking.

"Dis is Ironhide, our weapons specialist. He's... _temperamental_."

"Oh, stop making meh out as some kind of evil child eating mech, Jazz. Yer just mad 'cause Ah won't let yeh prank meh. You, child," Ironhide turned to Sam, who cowered discreetly behind his robot, "Are you a Decepticon?"

"Uhh, if I answer wrong will you shoot me?"

"Only if ye say yes!"

"Then no, I'm not a... Decepti-thingie. Whatever you called it. Nope, totally not."

"See? The child has nothing to worry about. I only shoot Decepticons-"

"Or people that annoy you, friend."

The largest mech of all, a good thirty feet at the shortest, patted the weapons specialist on the shoulder.

"You have to admit, you do have a bit of a temper... I apologize for not introducing myself properly the first time we met. My designation- name, as you call them- is Optimus Prime. I am the leader of the Autobots."

"...Nice to meet you- as long as you don't step on me."

The largest mech laughed, a surprisingly quiet sound for coming out of such a large body.

"Don't worry, Autobots aren't in the habit of hurting humans. Decepticons, on the other hand..."

The smile melted away from the other's face.

"They don't seem to care what- or who- they destroy, as long as they get their way."

"Uh, speakin' a Decept'cons... We had a pretty trippy run in wit' 'Cadey-Baby earlier today."

"'Trippy' how?" Ratchet asked, looking at the other oddly.

"Trippy as in Cadey-Baby was goin' on about how Sammie was 'The Cure' and how we couldn't understand..."

"And then he said..."

All the bots turned to the small voice of Sam.

"What did he say?" Optimus asked, once again surprising Sam with the almost gentle sound emerging from the large being.

"There was a conversation... He said, "No, no! Deny deny!" but the call went through anyway. And then there was someone screaming in the backround and someone named Sky was saying something about someone named Screamer going nuts because he was on SD and something died..."

"SD? Some kind of Decepticon code... Barricade must have been talking to Skywarp... Sam, what did the screaming sound like? High, low...?"

"It was high pitched," the small human said, shivering in remembrance, "and desperate. Absolutely deperate, and panicked, and so, so sad..."

"Starscream, if it was that high pitched... But why would he sound like that...?"

Ratchet walked off, muttering to himself.

The largest robot- Optimus- looked at him sheepishly, shrugging.

"You'll have to forgive our medic."

* * *

I'M SORRY!

Don't killz meh, plz.

Killing the author is bad, for then you get no more chapters. Thus, keeping the author you are pissed at for not posting alive is, in fact, in your best interest.

Next chapter up soon.

PS. My spellcheck button is missing, so if I screwed up with something, yo are fully welcome to inform me of my stupidity. Thank you.

PPS. Anybody voting on that poll?

I'm running a poll on whether people are actually interested in another fanfic I'm writing but have yet to post up. Vote if you want! ^~^


	12. Chapter 12

Literally copy-pasting stupid excuse for why it took me so long to post-

_However, this being my senior year, I have to deal with all the fun of ACT's, SAT's, college applications, scholarship essays, creating portfolios, re creating 12 paintings because my bastard of an art teacher didn't like any of them, so now I have nothing to enter in a competition, and my parents not thinking that a freaking 28 on my ACT's and a 1960 on my SAT's isn't good enough._

_Yeah, sooo, sorry if I take a long time, I'm probably in a mental institution suffering a nervous breakdown._

My heartfelt apologies._  
_

* * *

"Ratch does dat a lot- randomly walk off, dat is. Well, d'en there's me- Jazz, spec-ops, intelligence, and just all aroun' awesome."

"Awesome my aft. For special ops, you're ridiculously clumsy. Why it was just the other day when you-"

Jazz quickly set Sam down on a nearby shelf and darted over to Ironhide, tackling him to the floor with a servo over the black Autobot's mouth.

"Didn't we ment'on some sor' of agreemen'? Ya know, the sor' of agreemen' where you agree _never_ t' talk about certain events _ever again_ and I agree not t' email mah entire stock of embarrassin' high-grade induced photos t' the Femmes?"

There was a muffled answer, but apparently being Special Ops meant you had to be fluent in that kind of stuff, because it seemed to appease Jazz enough to get him to remove himself from Ironhide.

Sam, feeling overwhelmed all the sudden, carefully scooted across the shelves to Miles, whom the medic had placed there before running off to yell at the two bots wrestling on the floor. He felt the need for some relatively normal... normalness.

"So, Sammy, how's your bitch of a caretaker?"

"Still a bitch. How's your dog?" Sam asked, sitting beside his friend and watching the medic chase the two other bots around with a random piece of scrap metal he'd picked up off the floor.

"Also a bitch. Literally. We took him to the vet, and it turns out he's actually a she. Who knew?"

"Cereal?"

Miles slapped him over the head.

"Bad Sammy. Proper English. And yes. Her name's Masonda now."

"Masonda? What the hell kind of name is that?"

"Mom picked it," Miles answered, as if that explained everything.

And it did. Miles's mother was, well, weird as all hell. Totally into faeries and unicorns and crap, always thinking up the weirdest names for things- and people.

"What is your mom going to do about... you being friends with a giant alien robot?"

"Freak, scream, pass out, wake up, hug me, threaten said giant alien robot, and then squee about how awesome this whole thing is," Miles said, completely serious.

"Sam?"

The skinny teen looked up, almost face to face with his silver protector.

"O-P wants t' see th' glasses- depending on th' condition dey're in, i' could take a while t' get the coordinates offa dem."

"How did you guys even find the glasses, anyways? It's not like I hung them outside my window with a sign saying 'Ancient Robot Artifact, Come and Get It!'."

"Jazz here," the big bot, Optimus, had walked over after hearing the question, "hacked into various government data storage units until we found something pertaining to us. It was about your grandfather, Archibald Witwickey. We then googled your last name, came up with an article about you, and sent Jazz to stake you out in case you knew anything. He saw you with the glasses, and it all happened from there."

"Well, at least you didn't say... something stupid, like, I don't know, Ebay or something. That would have sucked."

"Yeah, Sammy, the giant alien robots found you out using...EBAY! Doesn't sound as cool, does it."

"Nope."

Sam shook his head at Miles and handed the glasses to the leader.

"I'm sorry if they're not of help... they, and just about everything else, were damaged in the house fire, and I'm not sure how that could have affected the... coordinates."

Optimus gently removed the glasses from the frail human's hands, hyperaware of the fact that even the slightest overcalulation of pressure could result in the destruction of the most important thing on this entire planet.

"I thank you, Samuel, for risking yourself in thins manner. I apologize for having to demand this of you. Is there any way I could repay you for what you've done?"

Sam looked away, clutching his doll close.

"Nothing- I haven't... really done anything in the first place. I just..."

"What?" Optimus probed gently, somehow sensing that this was something important.

"When you find what you're looking for," Sam blurted out, "what are you going... to do? Will you just... leave?"

His scans, while not as detailed as what Ratchet could produce, showed the boy's heart rate and blood pressure increasing, and a quick search indicated that such things were caused by high levels of stress. Optimus was shocked. Why would the small human worry himself so over such a thing? In fact, shouldn't the human _want_ them gone? After all, they were intruding on this species planet...

"We may have to stay- just because we have the Allspark does not mean the Decepticons will leave your planet in peace. May I ask why you are so worried about this?"

The small human flushed- a sign of embarrassment, he noted with some confusion.

"I- It's just... when you guys leave, it'll just be Miles and me, again. He likes hanging out with you- I can tell, even though... we've only known about your existence for a day or so. And... Even though I haven't known him for very long, I still think of Jazz as a friend and I'd be sad to see him leave."

"Realleh? Yer friend? Ah'm honered, Sammeh-boy!"

The small giant alien robot bounced over, happy as a lark. (What the hell is a lark and why is it so happy anyways?)

"Even If Ah had t' leave, Ah could jus' give you a comm frequency an' we could still talk, yanno," Jazz said, more serious, "Besides, do ya honestly think Ah'm just gonna up and leave such an interestin' little human?"

Sam laughed softly.

"Nice to know you won't just... up and leave in the middle of the night."

"Never," Jazz said quietly, the most serious anyone in the room had ever heard him.

The whole room was quiet after that one statement, so quiet, in fact, that it grew quite awkward.

Sam giggled nervously.

"Well, it's been nice meeting you all! Very... interesting, the whole giant alien roboty-transformy car thing, and all. Yeah. Very nice."

"'Giant alien roboty-transformy car thing'? Seriously, Sam, could you have come up with a weirder name for them?" Miles snickered at his friend's embarrassment, safely perched on Ratchet's shoulder once again.

Optimus took the spurt of conversation to examine and scan the fragile glasses. Slag.

"I am afraid to say that it will take at least a full day to repair the glasses enough so they are readable. Jazz, if you will continue to accompany Sam as his guardian for that time? If we have discovered his connection to the Cybertronians, then the Decepticons could too."

"Sir yessir!" Jazz saluted, morphing once more into a car and beckoning the skinny teen inside with a door.

"C'mon, doll, hop inside, an' Ah'll take ya on the ride of yo' life!"

"Doll?" Sam muttered as he climbed inside the not so giant alien robot turned solstice, grumbling good naturedly, "Could you have possibly picked a more demeaning nickname?"

"Don' complain if ye know what's good for ye," Ironhide rumbled from the corner, right before the door shut, "Ye could always b' Bahrbie."

Sam gulped.

"Jazz...? Please promise me you'll... never call me Barbie."

The only answer was a shriek of tires and a crazy laugh as the car swerved out of the warehouse.

* * *

I present you with your dose of crap. I hope you enjoy it.


	13. Not a New Chapter

Ok, truth time.

After taking a few college classes I've realized how truly awful my writing is. Seriously, it's terrible. So, I'm going to start re-writing all my stories, the exception being Same Roads. They need to be rewritten, badly.

If you have any suggestions or comments on how they can be fixed, please message me.

I'm planning on changing all my stories to third person, if they aren't already. Herte's Hope will probably end up being revised the most, seeing as I wrote more than half of it in two days after three days of no sleep and copious amounts of sugar. I've learned not to post things resulting from a manic sugar binge since then.


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